


you never get to heaven (on a night like this)

by Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, after they dream up the greenmantle plan at st. anges, from ronans pov, i wouldnt call it gratuitous use of hozier, idk theres a little bit of gore but not much, just regular amounts of hozier, my boys are learning to communicate :'), prayer-based breakdowns, robert parrish is only briefly present, sorta - Freeform, theres some angst, this is sorta an au/alternate getting together, this one pretty heavily features ronans catholicism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 07:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21222959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open/pseuds/Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open
Summary: In his head, on an endless, dreadful loop ashes to ashes dust to dust you are dust and unto dust you shall return ashes to ashes dust to–.





	you never get to heaven (on a night like this)

_You can die alone, next time_. 

Ronan sat, watching Adam’s retreating back, blood drying sticky on his hands, his own corpse curled on the ground below him. His heart warred against itself, shame and anger and _wanting_ shredding him inside out. He wanted to chase after Adam, to pick a fight, to kiss him until he forgot his own name. 

Eventually, after Adam was gone, Ronan stood and heaved the dreamt body over his shoulder. He was glad that it was dark, that they’d taken the BMW, that he could hurry himself into the trunk and race back to the Barns. Descending the narrow stairs from the choir’s pews into the main body of the chapel was difficult, but he managed. Turning, he checked for bloodstains on the worn wood, then staggered down the aisle, crossing himself as best he could as he left.

In his head, on an endless, dreadful loop _ashes to ashes dust to dust you are dust and unto dust you shall return ashes to ashes dust to–._

It was a messy business, wrestling the body into the trunk, and Ronan was panting and streaked with gore by the time it was done. He sat in the driver’s seat, bloody forehead resting on his arms where they crossed on the steering wheel, staring at the dark gauges in the dash, when he heard a door slam. Lifting his head, he watched a dreadfully familiar silhouette tramp down the stairs and into a truck, which tore away from the curb with a vengeful noise.

_Was that?_ No. It couldn’t have been. _Adam’s father_.

Ronan swore, quietly, then shoved his car door open, and bolted toward Adam’s apartment. He was exhausted, strung out, and now fearful images flashed in his mind. Adam as he had been, kneeling in the dirt in front of the trailer, as Ronan and Robert Parrish fought. Adam’s face, black eye and bruised cheekbone, the morning after Ronan had dreamt Chainsaw. The guilt of those bruises filled him, as visceral as it had been that afternoon. His feet pounded up the stairs, and his fist pounded on Adam’s door. “Parrish!”

Silence.

“_Parrish!_” Panic filled Ronan’s chest, crowding out the cool night air. “Adam, open up!”

Finally, the door cracked open, and Adam stood there. He looked angry, but also fragile. “What do you want, Lynch?”  


“Was that your dad?”

Ronan watched Adam’s breath hitch, his anger slough off as his eyes emptied. It was an awful sight. More gently, he asked “Can I come in?”  
Adam stepped back, allowing Ronan to step past him into the shitty little room. Nothing was broken, nothing was out of place. Ronan turned back to Adam. Tension and fury knotted Ronan’s shoulders, but he forced his voice calm as he asked “Did he hurt you?”

After a moment, Adam shook his head. There were no marks on his face. Very quietly, so quietly Ronan had to bend forward to hear him, Adam said, “I think he was about to. I’m not sure. I was facing the bookshelf. He made a noise and when I turned, his hand was raised and there was a thorn stuck in his palm.”

Ronan’s brow furrowed as he processed this new strangeness of Adam Parrish. Magician indeed. “Good. Are you ok?”

Adam shrugged. “He didn’t touch me.”

“That’s not what I asked. _Are you ok?_” 

Adam looked up at him, and, without warning, some dam seemed to fail inside him. He fell against Ronan’s chest, sobs wracking his frame. Ronan stood stock-still in the room, fear dripping into his lungs, thinking surely this was a mistake. But Adam didn't move, just kept his face in the crux of Ronan’s shoulder, and everything inside Ronan hollowed out with longing. He allowed his arms to come around the curve of Adam’s back, felt the knobs of his spine and the wings of his shoulder blades pressing into him. Almost automatically, Ronan’s thumb softly rubbed back and forth over Adam’s back. Ronan didn’t say anything, made no reassurances and attempted no comfort, he just held Adam, who continued to shake, his terror ripping out of him in dreadful, breathless gasps.

Ronan didn’t know how long they stood there. It felt like days, it felt like no time at all. He wanted Adam to be alright, he never wanted Adam to move, he wanted to run away and drive for miles and miles, as fast as his car would take him, and even faster. He stayed where he was, his thumb running unconscious circles on Adam’s thin shirt. Slowly, Adam’s breathing began to settle. He pulled away from Ronan, fixing his gaze downward. 

“Parrish?”

“Sorry. I’m ok.”

“Bullshit. Don’t apologize.” Ronan took a deep breath. He was having a hard time. Usually, this was the part where he would snipe something shitty and let Gansey take over. But Gansey wasn’t here. So Ronan tried. “It’s fine, Parrish.” He hated how it sounded, how the words almost sounded false, but he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam shook his head. Ronan shrugged. 

Ronan swallowed. The room felt small, suddenly, and Adam seemed to be standing very close. Ronan opened his mouth, then couldn’t think of what to say. Then, he could. 

“I’m sorry.”

Adam’s brow crinkled. _Fuck_. He was adorable when he did that. When had Ronan ever described anything as adorable?

“For snapping at you. In the church. It was shitty. I just—,” Ronan took a breath. It felt too big for his chest. “_Fuck_. I thought I didn’t have to do that anymore. I thought my dreams were done trying to kill me. I figured it would turn sour going in, but you were there, so I had to worry about bringing back anything other than what I’d gone in for. If I wasn’t careful, I’d have brought back something that would kill you, too.”

Adam blinked at him. Ronan was aware that this was both possibly the longest he’d ever been earnest, and also possibly the first time he’d ever apologized to Adam. The second thought shamed him, and he dropped his eyes. Adam still hadn’t said anything. Ronan could feel himself going red. _God_. He spun away, looking for anything to ease the tension of the moment. Tugged at his wristbands, gnawed at his lower lip. 

Cool fingertips just above the crease of his elbow made Ronan freeze. He half-turned, nearly afraid. Of what, he couldn’t say. 

Adam’s eyes were on him. His brow was still furrowed, but his eyes were clearer. More _Adam_. “Thank you,” Adam said. “For coming back.”

Ronan tried figure out how to communicate that there was no world in which he _wouldn’t _have come back for Adam, without bursting into flames. He failed.

“What’d you think I’d do, shithead?”

_Smooth_. But Adam was smiling, nearly, and Ronan counted that a victory. 

Goddammit, he still had to deal with the body in his trunk. He didn’t want to leave Adam alone, though. 

Also, he didn’t want to be alone.

“I have a favor to ask. There’s something in it for you, if you want.”

Adam raised one pale eyebrow. “Are we burying a body?”

Ronan gave a wry grin. It wasn’t a grin, not really. A grim twist of his mouth. “Pre-fucking-cisely, Parrish. But in return you can spend the night at the Barns if you want. I figure I’ve spent enough time crashing on your floor.”

Adam glanced around. He seemed to be weighing the offer against his pride. 

In the end, the offer won out.

* * *

The drive to the Barns was Ronan’s favorite. The exhilarating drop of his stomach as he hurtled the BMW around sharp curves, the rush of the air around him, smelling of dirt and starlight, his music pounding into the night.

Possessed by some unholy impulse, Ronan put on _Wasteland, Baby!_. He started with “Almost”, because why not. 

Adam grinned at the first notes. He cut his eyes slyly to Ronan, who scoffed. Somewhat to Ronan’s surprise, however, Adam’s smile softened into something genuine, and he began to sing along. So, Ronan did, too. 

This was going to ruin his reputation.

The night was chilly, October biting into the skin of Ronan’s neck. He could see goosebumps rising on Adam’s bare arms, but when Ronan moved to close the windows, Adam shook his head. Ronan shrugged. This was fine by him.

_Be still, my foolish heart, don’t ruin this on me_.

Both of them kept singing through the drive, Ronan keeping his eyes glued firmly to the road, afraid that if he caught Adam’s eye, he’d do something he’d regret. But he couldn’t escape Adam’s soft tenor beside him, plucking at his attention, chiseling away at his resolve. 

Ronan was nearly sure that Adam had figured out Ronan’s feelings. Adam caught him looking too often, glances catching Ronan red-handed. Well, perhaps not red-handed, but at least red-faced. Recently, Ronan had begun to notice that, half the time he turned his gaze on Adam, Adam’s eyes were already on him. He thought of the moment in the church, before everything went to shit. The wary examination with which Adam had looked at Ronan, even as Ronan watched Adam’s fine features.

Ronan clung to the cold, to the slice of his headlights as the road wound around the mountains. 

* * *

When they arrived at the Barns, Ronan took a moment, after he’d climbed out of the car, to look upward, staring into the depthless sky. He let the light soak into his heart. As he turned away, he saw Adam’s head tilted back, lips parted, the column of his throat exposed, a naked awe painting his face younger, and also stranger. Ronan’s chest was tight, suddenly. Adam looked nearly vulnerable, his exhaustion and his usual guarded expression absent, and he was so beautiful, and Ronan was powerless in the face of him. He knew he was staring, that he should look away, but he couldn’t force his eyes down. Ronan stood, immobile, Adam drawing his gaze inexorably. Like there was nowhere else, and nothing else on which Ronan’s eyes could possibly land.

Then Adam turned to him, and their eyes locked. And now they were looking at each other, and Ronan felt that he was laid open, here, in the dark and the starlight. Ronan could still see the stars, reflected in the roof of the BMW, even as he teetered on the edge of Adam’s stare. The moment stretched, endless, boundless. Ronan was falling. Or maybe he was flying. What was the difference? He supposed there wasn’t one, until you hit the ground. 

The ground rushed up as Adam turned away. Ronan landed, felt the breath go out from him. He knelt to open the trunk, taking the moment to gather himself, to get his head back. _Be still, my foolish heart_. 

The body sobered them both, but even as they carried it into the field, fetched shovels from the barn, began to dig, Ronan felt his chest fizzing with stars and possibilities. Then Ronan’s double was buried, and both of them were covered in sweat and dirt and blood. Ronan bowed his head. _Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our deaths._ _Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou–_. 

Looking at the fresh grave, Ronan felt the reality of what he had done sink in. He had dreamt a person for the sole purpose of killing them in his stead. _Pray for us sinners_. A _person_. He knew Matthew and Aurora. That wasn’t an empty copy in that hole. _Pray for us sinners_. That was a whole person, with thoughts and feelings and Ronan had just _killed him. Pray for us sinners_. He could feel his breathing growing shallow, guilt tightening around his ribs, crushing his lungs. _Pray for us sinners. Pray for us sinners. Pray for us_–

“Ronan?” Adam’s voice.

It was the first either of them had spoken since arriving. Ronan turned. Adam was looking at him, brow creased with concern. He had not yet pulled his armor back up; his face was still open. His hand was on Ronan’s arm. The same place it had been when Adam had reached for him back at St. Agnes. Ronan shut his eyes, hard, fighting to even out his breathing. Adam’s grip tightened on his arm, grounding him. Gently, Adam pulled him back toward the house. 

_Pray for us sinners_.

* * *

In the house, Ronan slapped on the lights out of habit, and in the brightened entryway, his breathing eased, just a little. He took in Adam, bloody and muddy, dark circles under his eyes, his guard back up under the hall lights.

“There’s a shower down here. I’ll throw down a change of clothes.”

Adam nodded. 

Ronan washed quickly, and then just stood there, letting the water run over him. _Pray for us sinners. Pray for us sinners_. The hot water heater must have been dreamt, because the water never got cold. It just kept coming, rinsing over Ronan’s hunched shoulders. _Pray for us sinners_. Finally, he got out. As he dressed, he wondered if he could take communion on Sunday. Probably not. _Pray for us sinners_. He went downstairs. 

Adam was standing in the kitchen, looking faintly ill at ease. Something must have shown on Ronan’s face, because as soon as Adam saw him, he asked “What’s wrong?”

Ronan debated. Finally, he decided on the truth. He didn’t lie, but that didn't mean he was always honest. But he felt, suddenly, that he had to be honest to Adam.

“I don’t think I can take communion on Sunday.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow, not understanding. 

Ronan barely suppressed the urge to scoff. “I’m not sure about what sort of protocol applies here, but that was a _person _we buried, Adam. Dreamt people aren’t empty. They aren’t shells. They’re _alive_. Like my mother. Like Matthew.” Comprehension was slowly darkening Adam’s brow. Ronan went on. “Murder is a mortal sin. And it’s not like I can take this to confession. ‘Oh yeah, one last thing, Father, I dreamt up a person and killed him to save myself. How many Hail Mary’s is that?’” Ronan laughed, a sound wholly unamused and more than slightly terrible. He felt it ripped from his chest. _Pray for us sinners_. “I can’t take communion if I’ve committed a mortal sin. And I can’t be absolved of it, because I can’t confess it.”

Adam had recoiled slightly at the word “murder”. Now he had his problem-solving face on. “Do you need a priest to absolve you?”

Ronan’s jaw clenched. “Yes, Parrish. I need a priest to go to confession.”

“I didn’t mean confession. Can’t you just ask for forgiveness anyway? Do you need a priest? Cut out the middleman.”

Ronan shut his eyes. He didn’t know how to tell Adam that God didn’t listen to him, didn’t hear his entreaties. He just shrugged. He heard Adam hum in response. 

Adam stifled a yawn, looking a little sheepish. Ronan shook himself. “I’ll go get you a blanket and stuff. You want the couch?”

At Adam’s nod, Ronan spun and marched upstairs, toward the linen closet. With more force than was strictly required, he yanked out pillows and blankets, nearly causing an avalanche of neatly folded sheets. The sheets were so carefully put away, they pulled him up short. When had someone last been in this closet? When were these sheets folded? Had his mother done it, her soft hands smoothing the wrinkles out of clean fabric? How long before his father had died? Two days before? Three? He shut his eyes. On the backs of his eyelids, he saw Aurora, lit golden by the sun, a basket of laundry on the chair before her. He could hear her singing Wild Mountain Thyme. 

He put the sheets back with far more care than he had used to retrieve Adam’s blankets, then shut the closet door quietly. He hummed Wild Mountain Thyme on his way down.

Downstairs, Adam was leaning in the living room doorway, staring blankly at the front door. When Ronan coughed, he turned, and a slight, wan smile curved his lips. And suddenly Ronan was transfixed all over again, trapped under nothing but the weight of Adam’s small smile. He dropped the bedding in a unceremonious heap at Adam’s feet. Adam didn’t look down. He kept staring straight into Ronan’s face. Ronan couldn’t take his eyes off Adam’s mouth. His hands freed, he brought one up, very slowly, and cupped Adam’s cheek. He did it in slow motion, giving Adam time to duck out, plenty of space to step away. He didn’t. And then suddenly Adam’s chapped lips were on Ronan’s and there was nothing in Ronan’s head, nothing at all. Just the feeling of Adam’s mouth, and the way Adam’s fingers curled around Ronan’s wrist, their calloused pads pressing into Ronan’s scars. 

They separated, barely. Ronan’s eyes were still closed, half-convinced this must be a dream. He could feel Adam’s breath on his skin, just inches away. Then Adam took a half-step closer, till his chest was almost touching Ronan’s, and kissed him again. This time, Adam’s other hand came up around the back of Ronan’s neck, the callouses on his palm scraping gently against the knob of Ronan’s spine. Adam deepened the kiss, just a little, and Ronan felt sparks bursting in his blood. Fireflies coursed through his veins, and he tangled his fingers in Adam’s hair. Adam took a step forward, and Ronan took a step back, and suddenly Ronan’s back was against the doorjamb, and Adam’s chest was pressed against his. Ronan’s head hit the wood with a soft _thunk_. Ronan didn’t care, but Adam pulled back.

He was pink, blush flaming high in his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Both of them were breathing hard, and Adam looked almost ready to bolt. Ronan felt nearly the same. 

“Adam?” His voice was rough. Adam still stood so close. Ronan’s hands had fallen from Adam’s face, but his fingertips itched to touch him. But he had to know if he really could. “Are you ok?”

He meant _is this ok? did I ruin everything?_ But he thought Adam knew that. 

Adam looked at him. He whispered, “can I kiss you again?”

Ronan could barely rasp out a “yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u so much for reading! please comment i love it and it makes me wonderfully happy.


End file.
